Bitter Tea
by Madness For Sale
Summary: Every now and then Harry and Snape meet for a tea.


**Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, I don't own Harry Potter so please don't sue.**

BITTER TEA

"You do not know what you are talking about, Potter,"

Snape took a sip of his tea and grimaced at the bitter taste. "The Headmaster ruined my life to save yours. To this day, I don't understand why,"

Harry's mouth twitched unpleasantly, a bit from what Snape was saying and a bit from the ungodly flavour of his tea. "_You_ don't know what you're talking about, Professor. Dumbledore and his Superior Good have made me into a walking encyclopedia of mental disorders, and if not for that old coot even _you_ would be.." he seemed about to say 'happy', but both men could agree that Severus Snape and 'happy' simply did not belong in the same sentence without a negation.

"...a lot less grumpy," he said finally.

Snape's hand on his teacup tightened. "I am _not_ grumpy, Potter. I am merely discontented at the world and at what it decided to throw at me"

Harry rolled his eyes so hard that for a second he thought they might have stuck that way. "You are such a drama queen, Professor. And you know that bad luck is my favourite topic, only second to Dumledore"

Snape nodded understandingly, alternatively sipping bitter tea and grimacing.

"The Headmaster is my favourite grudge too," he said levelly "but you must acknowledge that I was much worse off than you"

Harry slammed his teacup on the table and abruptly got up, his temper rising and his wand suddenly pointed at Snape. "Say that again!" He spat furiously.

Snape did the same, if with a bit more control, and in a second he was mirroring Harry's stance, with his wand at the ready.

"I will say it again and again until it penetrates your thick skull, Potter! I was much more miserable than you!" he shouted heatedly, or as heatedly as Snape got, his greasy hair disheavelled and his teeth bared. "And I am still more miserable than you! I'll always be!"

It wasn't the first time they discussed Dumbledore and his manipulative, grandfatherly impact on their lives. They delighted in arguing on who had the most unhappy life, and it wasn't the first time they got physical about it.

"You don't even _know_ what it means to be miserable, Professor! _Tarantallegra_!"

Snape easily dodged the spell, which dissolved behind him in a yellowish puff. "I lied for him, spied for him, nearly died for him! I murdred for him! _Rictusempra_! You could never understand! "

His former professor had miracoulously survived Nagini's attack, but instead of mellowing out after his near death experience, he was even more of a snarky, sarcastic, evil bastard than before. He had become Headmaster of Hogwarts, and for all his hatred for Dumbledore, he still kept his painting in his office. When Dumbledore-the-painting was in his frame, Snape shouted abuse at him, so the old man was always conspicuously absent, usually checking something that didn't need checking or investigating something that didn't need investigating.

Harry couldn't remember how it had started, but in the years after the war they had established the tradition of enjoying a tea as sugarless and bitter as their disposition every now and then. They sat in the Headmaster's office, which was now Snape's, and spent the couple of hours talking about their grudges, insulting each other, glaring at each other, fighting and occasionally gossiping.

"It's all your fault, Potter! Yours and the Headmaster's! If not for you Lily would have never died!"

"What? Now that thrice-damned prophecy is my fault? You mean it's _your_ fault, Professor, seeing as _you_ related it to Voldemort!"

"I also related it to the Headmaster! He could have saved her but of course he had to let things play out and see what happened!"

"It's _always_ Dumbledore's fault! And stop calling him Headmaster, _you_ are the Headmaster now!"

"I'll stop calling him Headmaster when you'll stop calling me Professor!"

Snape and Harry looked at each other, panting. Harry checked his clock and swore under his breath. It was already time for the Auror meeting.

"Friday?"

"Five o'clock. I'll bring the tea."


End file.
